The Room
by Winter Blake
Summary: Jason is spending the night in the manor after a run in with Bane and when he goes into his old room he finds something he did not expect. Rated for Jason's mouth.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

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**The Room**

Fuck my arm is killing me. Bane broke the damn thing to hell, but I suppose I'm lucky it didn't turn out any worse. I still don't know why the hell Bruce decided to take me back to the Manor though. I'd simply been minding my own business, making my way back to my dumpy apartment to fix up my arm, when he found me and insisted Alfred fix it. I was way to tired to put up much of a fight, so here I am wandering around the manor, and I feel as if I'm in some hyper realistic trippy ass dream. I never thought I'd be wandering around the manor in sweats, with my arm in a cast, and Alfred hovering around me in the kitchen with an anxious look in his eyes. Bruce had all but disappeared after he had growled at me that I was not allowed to leave the house, and that I needed rest. Usually I'd fight tooth and nail against what he said, but I really liked the idea of sleeping in a warm comfy bed instead of my own lumpy ass mattress and the moth eaten sheets.

Tim enters the kitchen going straight to the coffee machine. He doesn't even blink when he sees me.

"What happened to your arm?" He asks me as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

"Bane."

"Ow."

"Yup."

"You look beat. Gonna head upstairs to sleep?"

"In a bit. I suppose you and Damian have your own rooms, which means some of the guest rooms are gone. Do you know where I can sleep?"

Tim get's this strange expression on his face before he says, "uh your room?"

"My room?"

"Yeah, your room. You know the place that you slept in when you lived here?"

"Don't get snarky with me," I snarl.

Tim just rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I assume you know where your bedroom is, right? Or do I need to escort you?"

"I can find the damn room."

"Good."

I get up to walk away before I freeze and turn to Tim. "Will Alfred mind me sleeping there? Or does he have a guestroom he set up for me earlier tonight?" Yeah Alfred scares me. Eat shit- he'd scare you to.

"I think you'll find the room… ready for you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just go to sleep Jason."

"Whatever. See ya babybird."

"Don call me that!" I hear him yell as I walk away. "I hate that nickname!"

"Then take it up with Dick! He started it!"

I don't stick around to hear his retort and I quickly make my way up the stairs and take an eerily familiar route, until I'm standing outside my old bedroom door. I wonder what it will look like? I distinctly remember it being a complete pigsty, and shit thrown about. It's a guest room now I'm sure. Maybe it's reverted back to what it looked like before I came to live here. It had been big and fancy, and a little intimidating to my childish self when I first moved in. But Bruce had let me change the sheets, paint the walls, and do whatever I wanted with the room to make me feel more at home. He'd even taken me to the store to get things for my room, and never objected to a single one of my requests.

Shaking myself I turn the door handle and walk into the room.

"Holy shit," I mutter looking around, and feeling such a strong sense of deja vu. But not for no reason of course. The room looks exactly the fucking same as I left it. It's cleaner then I remember, and you can actually see the floor, but other then that nothing has changed. My textbooks are in a pile on my desk next to my computer, the posters of my favorite bands still hang, the goddamn sheets are the same. I walk to the closet and open it, expecting to find it empty, but instead find it filled with clothes. There is a pile of clothes on the ground that I must not have bothered to put in the laundry or hang up (one or the other), and my shoes are still in messy disarray. A lone sock lies in the corner.

Turning sharply I walk to the desk to find my computer still charging after so many fucking years (and really someone probably should have unplugged the damn thing, because that can't be safe), and unfinished math homework is sitting there.

"Nobody touches this room," I hear a voice from the doorway say and I look to find Tim leaning in the doorway, a cup of coffee in hand. "The door is always locked. Sometimes Bruce disappears in here for hours. When I was little I had no idea what this room was- thought it had Bat stuff in here or something, the way Bruce kept it under lock down. Dick told me it was your room when I asked him."

"There's fucking math homework on the desk."

"Yup."

"This is fucked up. It's like… like…"

"A shrine?" Tim supplies.

"Yeah."

"Well that really shouldn't be surprising. Haven't you ever heard of parents keeping their dead kids room as a sort of shrine to them?"

"Well yeah but… I didn't expect… _shit_."

"I have to get back to work actually but… Bruce is in the cave working you know. If you… if you want to talk to him. The demon brat is sleeping so you don't have to worry about him ease dropping or anything."

Tim is gone before I can respond.

Fucking ninja.

…

I sit on the bed for at least a half an hour before I get up and decide I need to speak to Bruce. I'm not sure what I want to say, only that my heart feels heavy, and I know I won't be able to sleep unless I see him. I'm not even sure I'll be able to sleep in the room, it's just so fucking creepy how… how untouched it is. So I walk down to the cave and find Bruce working intently. He doesn't turn to look at me but I know he is aware I'm here.

"I something wrong Jason?" Bruce asks turning in his chair to face me.

"No not really."

Bruce looks at me suspiciously.

"Do you need anything?"

"Just… just couldn't sleep."

Maybe I shouldn't do this. I'm putting myself way to out there. Bruce is going to send me out and tell me he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I'm not the boy he knew and doesn't want me around him.

"Nightmares?" Bruce says quietly, staring at me without the disgust or hatred I expected.

"No."

Bruce looks confused for a moment before he says, "alright, well you can stay down here if you like. I'll be here all night from the looks of it."

Suddenly I'm ten years old again spending the night in the cave with Bruce when I can't sleep because of nightmares. I used to sit on the floor at his feet and when I grew sleepy I would rest my head against his legs and doze. Sometimes while I was dozing Bruce would pick me up and sit me in his lap so I was in a more comfortable position, and I would fall asleep to the rhythm of Bruce's typing.

But I don't sit at his feet tonight, nor do I rest against him like I did in another life. Instead I pace around the room before I finally work up the courage to speak. "I went into my old room tonight."

Bruce's hands freeze of the keyboard for just a fraction of a second before he resumes his work. "I'm afraid it's cleaner then when you lived here."

I'm pretty sure that's Bruce lame attempt at a joke.

"Only the floor has been cleaned."

Bruce says nothing so I continue.

"My computer is still charging, my fucking math homework is on the desk, and the closet is as messy as it was before."

"I fail to see your point."

_Bullshit. _

"Why hasn't the damn room been touched?"

"What did you expect it to become?"

"A guest room… I don't know."

Bruce turns to look at me again, his face perfectly calm, as if we are having a conversation about the weather. "It was your room Jason. I wasn't going to touch it."

"But… I mean… it really can't be healthy or something. I mean the room hasn't been touched."

"It's still your room Jason. Do whatever you like with it."

I don't know what to say anymore so I say nothing. This is an extremely awkward subject that I have no idea how to approach.

Instead I pull up a chair next to Bruce and sit while watching him work. After a few hours I start to drift off to sleep, and without thinking I let my head fall onto Bruce's shoulders. When I realize what I have done I panic, sure that Bruce is going to push me off of him, or yell at me to get out, but he doesn't. After a few moments all typing ceases, but Bruce doesn't move. I'm on the verge of sleep, and I'm pretty sure Bruce believes me to be asleep.

"I'm so sorry for everything Jason," Bruce whispers. "I'm sorry I failed you. I love you son."

Tomorrow I'll realize the significance of the words spoken, but right now I'm sleepy and my arm hurts like a bitch, and I just want Bruce to stay because it feels nice having him around.

Clearly I'm not in my right mind when I mumble sleepily into Bruce's shoulder, "I love you to."

**I was inspired by Red Hood and the Outlaws #18. I just loved the ending with Bruce and Jason. Anyway this takes place pre New 52 but I got my ****inspiration from that book. If you haven't picked it up you really should because it's great. Anyway please R&R. **


End file.
